Loving scorn and compassionate sarcasm from the creator of Belacqua Jones.

Thursday, April 16, 2009

The Eternal Happiness of Unhappiness

I have been smitten with another insite. No, I don’t mean insight. This is much more profound. An insite means that I have placed my head in another ineffable place where demons sing in my ear.

Here it is!

Social control is all a matter of illusion, a legerdemain of such subtly that the proles never notice. It is a multiplicity of commands so muted that they are dutifully internalized to such an extent that the prospect of even questioning them, let along changing or eliminating them are never even considered.

One of the better ones is the pervasive belief that we are entitled to happiness. With this little maxim in tow our anguish increases when things go wrong. This is crucial for the well ordered state because anguish is not anger. Anguish further atomizes an already fragmented community because we hide our anguish from our neighbor and put on a happy face less our neighbor thinks us neurotic.

On the other hand, anger is a danger to the well-ordered state because angry people tend to vent, and this leads to intercourse with their neighbors who may well be an angry as they are. This could lead to the formation of a group that could well lead to the solidarity and cohesion of a movement.

Anguish serves the state; anger threatens it.

Since we believe we are entitled to happiness, we believe that the lack of it is because of something we did or didn’t do. We didn’t work hard enough; we didn’t kiss up to the boss enough. Somewhere, there is an enough that was left undone.

This leads us to entitlement’s corollary: the belief that we can regain happiness by reinventing our self, because in a happy society, suffering is all in our mind since our neighbor is always wearing a happy face. So all we need do is retool our existence.

Little do we realize that “inventing our self” is an ontological fallacy since a subject can’t be its own object. So we make some superficial changes and convince ourselves that our continued misery is only an illusion and that we are really happy in spite of our unhappiness.

There is a subversive Spanish proverb that reads, “There is no happiness; there are only moments of happiness.” Let’s hope the state keeps that one under lock and key.

About Me

Case Wagenvoord's articles have been posted at "The Smirking Chimp", "Countercurrents" and "Dissident Voice". When he's not writing or brooding, he is carving hardwood bowls that have been displayed in galleries and shows across the country. He lives in New Jersey with his wife and two cats.
His book, "Open Letters to George W. Bush" is available at Amazon.com.